Mmm Donuts!
by Cap'nHoozits
Summary: Lust is out of a job. How's a homunculus to make a living with such a dubious resume? Straight out of the This-Would-Never-Happen-Crackverse. LustxScarxKimbleexetc.
1. First Customer of the Day

**This is a sequel (for lack of a better term) to Mmm…Coffee…It was suggested to me (sort of) by Aurora-Borealis Coyote, who may or may not remember writing, "Poor Lust is unwelcome XD Maybe she'd find friends at Dunkin Donuts. Write that plz."**

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><p>One of the cardinal rules of starting a small business, one of many listed in <em>Cardinal Rules For Starting A Small Business<em> by Messrs. Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe, was "Thou Shalt Not Eat The Profits!"

"Eff that," Lust muttered, stuffing the last piece of her fourth maple cruller into her mouth and tossing the book in the trash.

Business had been slow, despite, or perhaps because of the garish red neon sign above the front of the shop that immodestly proclaimed LUSTY-KREME. It originally had neon silhouettes of little naked people draped over and around the lettering, but this part of Central City wasn't zoned for little naked people. It would have cost a lot more to move the whole shop to the Little Naked People Zone than to fix the sign, so Lust sliced them off and decorated her boudoir with them. Stupid City people.

Lust glared morosely out the front window as she extracted crumbs of maple glaze from her cleavage. The doughnut shop across the street had been doing brisk business since early that morning. The sign was a non-threatening shade of pastel pink with darker pink rosebuds surrounding the words GARFIEL'S NUTS. Several weeks previously, Lust had been offered a partnership in that particular enterprise, but she was not a team player. She had since been ruminating over the continued snide implications that her present misfortune had arisen by the sad lack of a sassy gay friend.

The owner of the rival establishment, decked out in black leggings, a sunny yellow camisole with spaghetti straps, and a frilled gingham apron, stepped out of his door to give a departing customer a farewell wave. He caught sight of Lust standing by her front window and blew her a kiss before going back inside.

"Bitch!" Lust snarled under her breath. She turned to peruse the display case for a Bavarian cream bismark in which to drown her misery. While she was debating over the chocolate or cherry icing, the bell over the door tinkled. Startled, she spun around and was about to shriek "Whaddya want?" when she was stilled into silence.

Standing just inside the shop was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dusky skin and scarlet eyes. He was dressed in the loose clothing and stripey thing of the people of Ishval, that quaint desert resort area that had fallen on hard times. His shirt rippled in the hot desert breeze and clung to his bulging pectoral muscles. Then he moved out from under the ceiling fan and approached the counter.

"Excuse me," he said in a deep, brooding, I-have-a-tortured-past voice.

"Why? What have you done?" Lust asked, trying to keep her eyes from crossing as she gazed at the pale X-shaped scar on the man's face.

"I have done much," the Ishvalan replied heavily. "Much that I regret."

"Oh," Lust replied with a shrug. "You'll get over it. I always do."

"But I am trying to atone for what I've done," the Ishvalan went on. From a leather satchel he was carrying he produced a stack of brochures. He handed one to her. Across the front in bold lettering was printed _Ishvala for Dummies_. "I am trying to teach the ways of God to the filthy godless heathen rabble of Amestris. May I leave these on your counter?"

"Uh…" Lust's attention was divided between the brochure, in which she had very little interest, to the smooth, tawny golden skin of the man's chest that was visible above the opening of his shirt, in which she was very interested, indeed.

To further pitch his product, the Ishvalan said, "I went into the store across the street with the same request, but the proprietor asked me to leave. He said my brochures were too much of a downer." The Ishvalan frowned. "They're supposed to be. How are people expected to repent if they don't feel miserable about themselves?"

Lust perked up. "So Girlie-fiel kicked you out?"

"Indeed."

"We—he—hell!" Lust exclaimed brightly. "You've come to the right place, Mr. Brochure Man!" She extended a black-gloved hand, which the Ishvalan enveloped in his. "My name's Lust! What's yours?"

"I have no name," the Ishvalan replied gravely. "I cast it away."

"Oh." Lust gave an unconcerned shrug. "Suit yourself. Names just get in the way." She moved closer to him. "Can I interest you in a French twist?"

The Ishvalan glanced at the case of doughnuts with mild disdain. "No thank you. I don't eat that stuff. My body is a temple."

"It looks pretty sturdy to me," Lust observed, her violet eyes raking over his pillars and flying buttresses. "How about a buttermilk bar?" She trotted around the counter on her high heels. "That won't crack your arches, will it?"

"Well…" The Ishvalan grudgingly weakened. "One won't hurt, I suppose."

Lust seductively held out a crispy brown buttermilk bar. "Of course it wouldn't!" she purred.

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><p><strong>TBC...<em>there's more?<em> o.O**


	2. Second Customer of the Day

**This sort of thing slips out of my brain a lot easier than more serious work }:( It's not fair and is a sad comment on my brain.**

**Chapter 2: Second Customer of the Day**

Since she had nothing better to do, she sat across from the Ishvalan at one of the little bistro tables and watched him try to put together a cardboard brochure holder. She watched his hands. They were strong, capable hands—not, however, capable enough to put the brochure holder together.

"Oh, for pete's sake! Give me that!" she cried finally, snatching it out of his hands. "Look. You put tab A into slot B!"

"Are you sure?" the Ishvalan asked dubiously.

"Of course." She slid him a sideways look. "I know all about getting tab A into slot B." She handed him a perfectly constructed brochure holder. "Maybe you just need some practice."

"It's possible," the Ishvalan admitted. "I have several of these to distribute."

"I'd be more than happy to guide you along," Lust suggested.

The bell above the door tinkled again and Lust looked up in surprise. Entering the doughnut shop was a gentleman elegantly dressed in an immaculate white suit with a lavender power tie and an expensive looking overcoat. Seeing Lust, he gallantly doffed his fedora.

"Good morning," he announced.

Lust looked him up and down appreciatively. She noticed he had a pony tail. Nice. Something to hang onto. She stood up so he could look her up and down appreciatively, which he did. The Ishvalan looked him up and down as well, but not so appreciatively, more like he was picturing him nailed to a wall with shards of metal with his belly slit open and steaming entrails hanging out of his gut.

"Oh, excuse me," the Ishvalan sneered. "Did I say that out loud?"

"No," the Gentleman replied with a thin smile. "But your look spoke volumes."

"Last time I saw you, you didn't look so trim," the Ishvalan observed. "I seem to recall something about a lead pipe in the parlor car."

"Oh, do you two know each other?" Lust asked. "Gosh, it really is a small world after all!"

The Gentleman looked at her indulgently. "We have a little history. Oh, excuse me!" He removed a pale lavender glove from his hand and plucked a morsel of maple cruller from her bosom. He licked it off the tip of his finger. "I didn't think you'd want that there."

"Oh!" Lust tried to blush, but remembered that she couldn't. "How'd that get there? I feel like an unmade bed!"

"Nothing wrong with that," the Gentleman assured her with a smile. "I've woken up in any number of unmade beds."

"Really? Me, too!" Lust gave him a playful push. "Doughnut?"

"Excuse me?"

Lust's playful look dampened. "Do you want a doughnut? This is a doughnut shop."

"It is?" the Gentleman seemed genuinely surprised.

"What did you think it was?" Lust replied irritably. "The sign says Lusty-Kreme, doesn't it?"

"Well, that could mean anything, honey," the Gentleman said. "Which is why I came in. I passed by last week and there were little naked people on the sign, and I thought, oh, I need to check this place out!"

"He thought it was a den of sin," the Ishvalan remarked distastefully.

Lust rolled her eyes and waved her hand. "Well, duh! I also sell doughnuts."

"So, what brings _you_ to this den of sin?" the Gentleman asked the Ishvalan. "Not exactly your scene, is it?"

"I go where the word of God is needed the most," the Ishvalan said, rising to his feet and placing the brochure holder on the counter.

The Gentleman took one of the brochures and gave it a cursory glance. "Hmm. I don't know, honey," he said to Lust. "Kind of a downer. This might put people off their doughnuts."

"Oh, I don't think it's really going to hurt business that much," Lust said with a shrug and a wink at the Ishvalan.

The Gentleman made an elaborate show of looking around the shop. "Business looks a trifle…thin, shall we say?"

Lust frowned and folded her arms petulantly. "So?"

The Gentleman gave her a winning smile. "It's quite possible that I may have the very thing to give your business a little stimulation."

"Really?" Lust asked excitedly. "What is it? Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"I just so happen to be in possession of a commercial grade, maximum capacity Amestrian cream extruder."

Lust squealed rapturously and clapped her hands. "Really? How does it work?"

"If you'd care to show me to your back room, I'll be happy to give you a free demonstration."

"That's _disgusting!_" the Ishvalan cried in outrage. "It's at least a health department violation! Young woman!" he pleaded with Lust. "Don't let this viper infiltrate your back room. You have no idea where he's been!"

"Where haven't I been?" the Gentleman told Lust in a conspiratory undertone, to which Lust giggled.

"Don't take him into your confidence!" the Ishvalan warned. "He will only lead you down the road to ruin!"

"Oh, honey!" Lust gave him a wink. "I'm the one who paved that road with broken glass and thumbtacks. I know where to step."

The Ishvalan spread his hands imploringly. "You can make your way back! It's never too late!"

"Well, in that case, I've got plenty of time, don't I?" Lust turned back to the Gentleman. "So this extruder of yours. Does it come with a lifetime guarantee?"

"Hardly!" the Ishvalan sneered before the Gentleman could reply. "Unless you want your doughnuts to taste like Viagra."

The Gentleman's smile disappeared and he took off his other glove. "Do you remember when I said that we'd finish this next time, preacher man?"

The Ishvalan clenched his right hand. "I remember," he growled dangerously.

"Well, guess what? It's next time!"

"Bring it, don't sing it!"

Lust chuckled with satisfaction as she went around the back of the counter to give them more room and to find something to snack on during the show. She loved it when men fought over her. What a nice day this was turning out to be!


End file.
